


breaking vows

by sincerelykaashi, yadoiangel



Series: HQ x Taylor Swift Week 2020 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Confused Sakusa Kiyoomi, Failed Wedding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sad Miya Atsumu, Supportive Komori Motoya, Supportive Miya Osamu, mentions of alcohol use, runaway bride au, this is just pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelykaashi/pseuds/sincerelykaashi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yadoiangel/pseuds/yadoiangel
Summary: “I’m sorry for wasting yer time,” Atsumu said out loud to the whispering guests and staff alike, “This wedding is cancelled. You can all go home now, and uh, thanks fer coming?”HQ Swift Week 2020 Day 3: Redsong: I Almost Do
Relationships: Komori Motoya & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: HQ x Taylor Swift Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900672
Comments: 12
Kudos: 127





	breaking vows

**Author's Note:**

> Kit messaged Angel in the middle of the night to scream about SakuAtsu Runaway Bride AU and breaking vows was born. Please enjoy the pain.

_[day 0]_

Atsumu was trembling, beads of sweat dripping down his temples. _No, Omi, you wouldn’t do this to me, will ya?_ He thought to himself as he heard the news.

“Where’s he? Still no sign of him?” he asked Komori and Osamu in front of him hopefully, their would-have-been best men.

They only shook their heads, unwilling to tell him the news. Sakusa was gone, and Atsumu just stood there, finally letting himself absorb the fact that he was stood up at his own wedding. They tried to hide it, but Atsumu could see the pitying looks the two sent his way. He absolutely hated it, and he was getting fidgety just standing there at the altar in his _montsuki_ specifically tailored for what should have been the best day of his life. He took a moment to collect himself, took a moment to make sure his voice wouldn’t break.

“I see. Well, I guess this wedding’s over, huh? Or well, guess it ne’er even started,” he said with a self-deprecating grin, his wandering eyes looking out over the entire courtyard to the start of the aisle that should’ve taken Sakusa up to face him at the altar.

“I’m sorry for wasting yer time,” he said out loud to the whispering guests and staff alike, “This wedding is cancelled. You can all go home now, and uh, thanks fer coming?” he added, losing his bravado fast. He took off after that, not quite running to the room he spent preparing for this botched wedding in, but definitely rushing.

He got inside, locking the door and leaning back on it, exhaling a huge breath and closing his eyes. This was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, but instead it turned into a nightmare lightning quick.

He wondered what pushed Sakusa to leave, what Atsumu did so bad that it didn’t even warrant an explanation. This was supposed to be the day that he would have vowed himself to the taller, and yet while he was ready to make it, it looked like Sakusa wasn’t willing to let him fulfill it. With his vows and the _I almost dos_ ringing in his head, he began crying into his hands; these huge, chest-wracking sobs that would have torn through Sakusa’s heart if he heard. It was all Atsumu could do.

* * *

This was the fourth time this week that Sakusa found himself sitting up in bed, his phone in hand and reading Atsumu’s messages. He should really change his number, or throw this one away like Komori told him, but this was one area he would admit he was weak in; he really couldn’t help himself from reading each and every message Atsumu sent, although he never answered the calls. He was fragile for every word, for every little crumb he could get of Atsumu, but he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t interact with him anymore–not after what he put the other through.

He missed Atsumu. He didn’t have any excuses for doing what he did–that’s why he’s trying not to contact him again–and he’s prepared to live with his choices, but it’s _hard._ A month after he ran away, he realized he wanted nothing more than to go back. He realized what he felt that day was purely unfounded cold feet, and it was the decision he would regret the most.

That was when this little ritual of his was born: he’d ignore the messages all day along with the memories of Atsumu, but at night when he was alone and the memories still demanded to be remembered, he’d allow himself to think about his former fiancé for the duration of his nightly routine, and if that bled over into his dreams, well, he wouldn’t mind seeing Atsumu again, even if it was all in his head.

Sometimes he’d think about the life they had together before Sakusa went and threw it all away; he was the only one who knew what Atsumu looked like early in the morning back then, and he let himself wish that it was still true–that he was still the only one. He would think of the way they shared lazy mornings together, of the haze that clouded Atsumu’s eyes until he had his shower, of the way he would always cling to Sakusa, saying he didn’t want to let the world intrude in on them yet. He would think of the nights they shared, coming home to him and vice versa, shrugging off the exhaustion of the day to enjoy each other’s presence; sometimes tiring each other further and regretting it in the mornings.

These were dangerous thoughts to have for Sakusa, since it ignited in him the longing to go back. It made him so brittle that he’d catch himself almost pressing the dial or the answer button, just wanting to hear Atsumu again. The only thing that held him back was the pain he felt when he realized he never wanted to leave the setter—he knew it was so much worse for Atsumu, and he vowed to himself that he would never hurt him again. If that meant never being allowed back into Atsumu’s life, only searching everywhere he could for crumbs, then so be it. He would never break this vow.

_[month 2-4]_

Atsumu found himself back at the shrine about 2 months later. The place was where he saw Sakusa last, and for some morbid reason he wanted to torture himself with memories and daydreams about weddings—the failed one and the one that happened in is head.

He thought about it again, drinking alone in the dull slate walls of the shrine as he reminisced how vibrant this place was when it was filled with their closest family and friends, seeing with his hazy eyes Sakusa Kiyoomi striding down that aisle with that soft smile Atsumu’s only seen aimed at him on his face, I do’s and rings and kisses being exchanged, how they would go down that aisle as one by the end of it... Atsumu couldn’t help but sob out loud at the imagery.

He looked around the shrine now, seeing none of the decorations and feeling none of the festivities, but there was this aching feeling of _hope_ as he waited to come across Sakusa again. It’s been Atsumu’s daily routine, and every day so far had stayed the same—he waited and waited like he hasn’t waited enough, phone in his hand sending dozens of text messages and trying dozens more calls, but by the time the sun kissed the horizon he’d still find himself with no one and no answer still.

 _Maybe I should give up,_ Atsumu thought to himself, taking his twelfth shot of the day. He’s sure he’d get scolded over the phone by Osamu when he went home to their shared apartment alone; questions of _wanna live with me and Suna for a while?_ and _‘Tsumu I made too much food, you want to eat?_ and _I need some help around the shop, do you mind lending a hand?_ in different variations always coming up in conversation. Atsumu wasn’t stupid, he knew his brother was worried about him, knew that he had every right to be.

Atsumu settled down beside a pillar, finishing off the bottle and placing it next to him. He shot Osamu a text before he let himself slump down, His last thought _I don’t want to go home without Omi in it,_ before passing out.

 **Me  
**at the shrine. can i stay with u for a bit?  
_sent 12:01am_

 **Myaa Uglee  
**i swear to god i will lock you in my room for a month  
stay put i’m coming to get u  
_12:03am_

* * *

It wasn’t a new occurrence that Sakusa would wake up in the middle of the night, gasping for air with tears clogging his eyesight. _It's the same old guilt,_ he thought to himself wearily when he was able to breathe properly again. It's the guilt nipping away at his chest, nestling in the pits of his stomach, and the nausea that came after is something he endured. After all, this still wasn’t enough to make up for what he did to Atsumu. He'd wish for it to stop, sometimes, when it was too much, but it never did. Just another of his wishes unfulfilled; by now it wasn’t anything new.

It’s been happening for a few months now—Sakusa didn't know for sure; he’s lost track in all the variations of the nightmares. The one thing he definitely knew was that the images of Atsumu smiling back at him just days before their wedding and the silent vows they shared between kisses were always there to torture his dreams. It left a bitter feeling in his chest, being taunted by the memories only for everything to come crashing down on Sakusa whenever he woke up.

It's enough, he would tell himself, but at the same time, it's not. In so many ways, it's just _not._

“Omi,” Komori’s voice came out distant to him, “Are you sure you don’t want to see him?” he asked.

“No,” Sakusa answered. Komori ignored the lie in his tone.

He sat beside his cousin, a hand immediately finding its way to pat his back. It didn’t really help much, but at this point, he might break from all the pain Komori knew he’s bottled up. Ever since that night Sakusa called him, realizing he never wanted to leave Atsumu, Komori knew that Sakusa was at his breaking point—the usually stoic and controlled Sakusa breaking at the seams. Komori wanted to be there for him, like how Sakusa had been in the past.

Komori could only sigh as he watched Sakusa gently tuck his head into his palms, still shaking from being abruptly woken up by what Komori suspected to be another nightmare about Atsumu. Ever since the night Sakusa called him, he hasn’t slept well. A nap in the afternoon couldn’t even make up for the hours of sleep he lost at night because whenever he had the opportunity to close his eyes, they would snap back wide open—same routine: shaking, sweating, panting, but never crying.

It would be a rare sight to see him cry, and Komori wasn’t sure if it was because Sakusa still wasn’t one to show his feelings openly, or maybe he just doesn't cry in front of anyone.

“Give him a call,” Komori suggested, proceeding to pick Sakusa's phone on the floor. It fell a few moments earlier back when he was struggling to get out of the bed.

Sakusa turned away from Komori as if a mere gadget would cause great harm if he looked at it. Well, _technically_ it would, if he’d get a glimpse of Atsumu's name on his lock screen asking him to come back, still demanding explanations and answers, always with the whys, and a few missed calls. Sakusa wouldn’t be able to bear seeing it, not in the state he was in now. He refused to check his phone when Komori offered it to him, remembering his vow to not make contact.

“I can’t. I told you I’m not going to talk to him again. I hurt him too much,” Sakusa forced the words out of his mouth, not knowing who he was trying to convince.

“You know what you can do to ease his pain? Go back to him,” Komori pointed out. Sakusa didn’t answer. The two of them just sat there on the floor of Sakusa’s room in silence.

Komori wasn’t sure if he should have spoken at all. It’s been 4 months now though, and he thought it was enough time to give his cousin before pushing him towards going back. He knew how much Atsumu still wanted him, after all.

“Okay, this is ridiculous, Kiyoomi,” Komori said when Sakusa kept silent.

“What’s ridiculous?” Sakusa asked quietly.

“You are! You go on about this senseless promise you made to yourself to not hurt Atsumu again when your continued disappearance hurts not only him, but also you! It’s ridiculous, Omi. I never took you for a martyr,” Komori answered him, his patience running low.

“You talk as if _you_ didn’t help me hide,” Sakusa retorted back.

Komori went silent, having no answer to that. He couldn’t blame his cousin, he supposed. Komori _did_ help him, but it was because Sakusa showed up at his doorstep a week after he ran away looking so wrecked, asking to stay for a couple of days. He’d never seen the taller that way before, how could possibly turn him away? Komori sighed, standing up.

“It’s been 4 months, Kiyoomi. He’s still blowing up your phone, still asking me about you. I’ve been lying to his face for 4 months, and I don’t know how much more I can do that. You _destroyed_ him,” Komori emphasized, watching to see if it had any effect on the other, but Sakusa’s back was turned from him, “The only thing that would help him is if you go back now,” Komori advised, walking out of the room.

Once Komori was out of sight, Sakusa let himself slump on the side of the bed, the tension going out of his shoulders. Komori’s words hurt, but not enough to make him go back. It was worth it if he knew Atsumu wouldn’t have to deal with the pain he brought.

His phone lit up in the same instant Sakusa noticed it beside him, catching a glimpse of the notification he's grown accustomed to.

 **Atsumu M.  
**miss ya, Omi. please come home?  
_sent 3:04am_

_[month 6]_

“Hey, yer up early,” Osamu observed as a greeting.

“Yah, well,” Atsumu answered with a shrug, looking at the pots on the stove, “Have some things to do,” he said, lifting a lid only to see rice.

“What things?” Osamu asked doubtfully, slapping at his hands.

“M’not sure yet, but I just feel like going out today,” Atsumu said, still with that same nonchalant tone. He opened up the other lids, presumably hunting for breakfast.

“Ya just feel it,” Osamu deadpanned, an unimpressed stare aimed at Atsumu as the blonde got a bowl to scoop out Miso soup from one of his pots.

“Yep,” Atsumu answered before bringing the bowl to his nose to inhale.

“Ya haven’t ‘felt it’ in 6 months,” Osamu pointed it out, “What changed?” he asked, eyes narrowed to stare at his brother more carefully.

“No need to be so negative, ‘Samu! Aren’tcha happy for me? I’m finally moving on!” Atsumu announced in a grand voice before literally inhaling the bowl of soup in one go.

“Like how ya tried 4 months ago? And 2 months after that?” Osamu asked with a roll of his eyes, going back to the onigiri he was making.

“C’mon, ‘Samu, this won’t be like any of those other times,” Atsumu complained, now getting his things ready to go out.

“Whatever ya say, ‘Tsumu. Want me to pack ya some onigiris?” Osamu called out.

“Nah, I’m good!” Atsumu answered, then walked out the door.

Osamu sincerely hoped that this time Atsumu wouldn’t revert back a week after deciding to move on again. From the way he still avoided Osamu’s onigiris though, the shop owner wouldn’t be holding his breath.

Atsumu was running high on catharsis. He had just bawled his heart out that morning, and when he looked into the mirror he was annoyed with his muggy eyes and pallid cheeks that were almost mocking him—which was a new emotion for him. He’s been in a pit of depression for the past six months and this was the first time he’s felt anything more intense than self-pity.

He was hopeful that more emotions would make themselves known soon, which is why he decided to go to the places that meant something to him and Sakusa. It didn’t make any sense, but he just felt the need to say goodbye.

His first stop was their shared apartment. Neither of them had been here since before the day of the failed wedding, and seeing their names on the buzzer was enough for Atsumu to almost turn back.

“Oh hey Atsumu! You haven’t been back to your place in a while, but your brother told me you and Sakusa went on vacation? Where’d you go?” Kuroo Tetsurou, his neighbor, asked as he passed by.

“He did, huh? Well, I didn’t go to vacation, but maybe Omi did?” Atsumu said, still staring at Sakusa’s name while laughing at himself.

“He left you here?” Kuroo paused in his walk up to look back at Atsumu, curious.

“Yeah, ya could say that,” Atsumu shook his head, then looked up to flash Kuroo a wide, pleasant, and entirely fake smile, “M’just stopping by to check things out. I don’t think ya’ll be seein’ me around here anymore,” Atsumu told him, then hurried to walk past him up to his floor.

He paused in front of the door, noticing that nothing changed. It felt… weird to Atsumu. Before he could lose any more of his courage, he reached for the knob and went inside.

The first thing he noticed was the stale air. _That’s more like it,_ Atsumu thought to himself as he went further inside, not looking at the pictures hanging on the walls yet. His eyes were focused in front, wanting to take in the entirety of their living room first. He stopped in the middle of their space, and then he let his eyes wander. The first thing he saw was the shut door leading to what was once his and Sakusa’s bedroom, and the litter of clothes trailing from it. Osamu was the last person here, he knew, when Atsumu asked him to get his clothes because he didn’t think he’d be able to go inside their apartment and come back out again. It seemed that his twin rushed to get his things.

The next thing he saw was the glass bowl on the side table beside the couch. It was where Sakusa always put their keys and whatever else they needed when they had to run out of the place on short notice, _for accessibility,_ he had said. The only things left inside were a few coins, and it made a sharp shooting pain go through Atsumu’s chest; an empty bowl meant no more people inside. He quickly turned his head, not wanting to get taken in by a _bowl_ of all things, and his eyes landed on one of their pictures hanging on the wall.

Atsumu cursed himself for putting up a lot of their pictures in frames and hanging them on the walls. The first time Atsumu did it, Sakusa had called him a sappy dumbass and refused to be anywhere near him to be teasing. Atsumu could see he was happy about their picture being up though, so he continued putting up their pictures. _It’s a way for me to always be able to see you in our place,_ he had told Sakusa when he asked. If Atsumu knew then what would happen now, he wouldn’t have done it.

He took in all their pictures on the wall, most of it taken from Atsumu’s phone camera and some of them pictures cropped out from their game shots. In all of them Atsumu was smiling, and Sakusa would either be glaring at him or not looking at all. Only now did he realize that Sakusa himself never did put up pictures or offered any to Atsumu, and he wondered if his would-have-been husband ever even took a picture of them.

One picture stood out from all the rest, and that’s what Atsumu focused on. It was one of them during the 2nd year of their relationship, just before they were drafted for the Japan National Team. Atsumu was the one on the very front, and between him and Sakusa were Bokuto and Hinata smiling at the camera. Sakusa still hadn’t put on his mask, and Atsumu could see he was slightly smiling at Atsumu, even if he was a little exasperated.

It hit Atsumu then; he lost another hitter, and not only just any hitter, but someone who filled Osamu’s shoes when Atsumu thought nothing could fill in that bond with his twin. Sakusa didn’t quite replace it, no, but when they became teammates and a proper spiker-setter pair, his Omi took up that hole in Atsumu that he thought would always be raw; that would always mourn at the loss of a partner he thought would always be there for him.

He slumped into the sofa, the familiar pain in his chest doubling, bringing back the grief that he first experienced when Osamu quit volleyball. _Am I not enough for people?_ He wondered to himself, staring dumbly at the picture, more specifically the way Sakusa’s lips curled up infinitesimally—something that was so small to everyone else, but to Atsumu was all the affirmation he needed, something he doesn’t have anymore.

 _Why do they keep leaving me? Is it because I’m too much of a jerk to them? Is it because I’m just not what they want?_ His thoughts kept following the same direction, the same way they’ve done the past six months. It was a familiar thing to him now, but it was never easier. He clutched at his shirt then, curling up in an effort to handle the pain—it was spreading everywhere, pouring from his chest to every corner of the apartment. He choked on it, eyes closing to stave off the tears that he was sure to come again, the only thought in his head being _Omi isn’t mine anymore. I’m alone again._

He stayed like that, letting all the pain wash over him. He was prepared for the loss and anger that Sakusa leaving him would cause, but he was unprepared for the old wound of Osamu leaving him as well. It caught him by surprise, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it. He struggled to reach the phone in his pocket, blindly speed-dialing his twin.

“Yah?” Osamu answered pleasantly, probably not checking before he picked up the phone.

“‘Samu,” was all Atsumu could say, his voice hoarse.

“‘Tsumu? That ya?” Osamu asked into the phone, but Atsumu couldn’t answer now, sobbing at the concern in his brother’s voice.

“‘Tsumu, where are ya?” Osamu asked again, this time frantic when the blonde still didn’t answer. Atsumu could hear him rushing around, preparing to go find him and leaving orders for the shop.

“Atsumu, need to know where ya are,” Osamu said to him, his voice loud and calm, “Breathe with me,” he ordered, then started breathing deeply through the phone. Atsumu tried to match it, taking a lot of time before he could properly breathe.

“There ya go,” Osamu told him soothingly, “Now tell me where ya are,” he said, and Atsumu could tell he was a little more frantic now.

“M’at our apartment,” Atsumu mumbled into the phone.

“Why the hell are ya there ya dumbass?!” Osamu exploded through the phone.

“Thought I could handle it. Wanted to move on,” Atsumu sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Stay put. I’m comin’ to get ya,” Osamu told him, then hung up.

He did what his brother said, leaning back on the sofa and closing his eyes so he wouldn’t see the pictures and the memories that came with it. He kept up with the breathing technique that Osamu taught him, and pretty soon his chest wasn’t feeling as tight anymore. The pain was still there, of course, but Atsumu’s had more than enough time during the past six months to get used to it. What he wanted to do now was simple—he just wanted to still be able to function despite the pain, not some bumbling idiot who had to call his brother every time he got overwhelmed.

“M’here,” Osamu announced at the door an indefinite amount of time later.

“M’on the sofa,” Atsumu called out, still not moving from his position.

“What hell made ya think it was a good idea to c’mere?” his twin stood in front of him looking down with his hands on his hips.

“Thought it was time to say goodbye, that’s all,” Atsumu answered, his voice devoid of any emotion.

That made Osamu pause, since this was the first time the blonde said the word _goodbye_ regarding anything that was Sakusa-related.

“How’s that goin’ for ya?” he asked gently, making Atsumu chuckle.

“Thought I could handle it, but then I remembered the time ya left me too,” Atsumu answered drily, knowing his brother wanted to walk on eggshells around him again and absolutely hating it.

“The fuck you mean, ‘left ya’? When the hell did I do that, huh?” Osamu demanded.

“High school. Ya quit volleyball, ‘Samu. Ya left me all alone after that,” Atsumu said, finally looking up at the other.

“Jesus christ, ‘Tsumu, yer a dramatic sonovabitch,” Osamu kept cursing at him, feeling a little guilty that what happened between them somehow contributed to Atsumu’s breakdown now.

“What’s it about me, ‘Samu? Why’d y’all leave me, huh? Do I have a sign on top of my head that says ‘leaveable?’” Atsumu wondered out loud.

“I don’t know about that Sakusa of yers, but I didn’t leave ya. I’m still here, aren’t I? I just took a different job, ya idjit,” Osamu sat beside him, mirroring his pose.

“He ain’t mine anymore,” Atsumu mumbled.

“What was that?” Osamu pretended not to hear, cupping a hand behind his ear and leaning towards the blonde.

“I said Sakusa’s not mine anymore,” Atsumu said louder into the apartment, and just like that, his mood changed.

It was subtle, but Osamu has had his entire life to learn how his twin worked. He could feel Atsumu’s acceptance with that statement, could feel the pain that he was feeling, could see his struggle to move past it. This was something new Atsumu was doing, and it made Osamu hopeful. In the past, he would only be pushing back the pain, denying that everything has shattered. Now he was accepting it, letting the pain move through him and pushing past it, doing the hard things that he couldn’t do six months ago. It made Osamu proud.

“So what d’ya wanna do now?” Osamu asked him, looking around the apartment to indicate what he meant.

“I was plannin’ on packin’ it all up. I don’t wanna throw it all away, but I wanna clean this place out and sell it,” Atsumu said idly.

“Ya sure?” Osamu eyed him.

“Could you do the frames?” Atsumu asked in a small voice, making Osamu laugh at him.

“Whatever you say, big bro,” Osamu answered, getting to work.

Only after Osamu took down all the pictures did Atsumu finally stand up. He took a deep breath, and went to work packing up the rest of the things. The frames weren’t the only things that reminded him of Sakusa, but they were the worst. After them, he could handle the others that brought up memories. He had his brother here with him too, and he took comfort in Osamu helping him, wanting to believe that his twin was still there for him even if not in volleyball, then at least in this.

It was enough to get him through essentially removing the memories of his and Sakusa’s time together from the front of his mind to a compartment at the back of it. It was enough for him to start moving on, finally.

_[month 8]_

Two months after the apartment-cleaning fiasco Atsumu pulled off on a whim (with the help of his brother), things started going better for him. From the way his heart no longer clenched at the thought of Sakusa (at least, not as much anymore), to sleeping better at night without feeling the need to search for a familiar warmth, Atsumu could tell he was _really_ making progress. It was hard for him, yes, but he’s getting there.

Everyone around him has been so supportive of the little ways in which he tried to move on—throwing away the spare toothbrush that’s supposed to be for _someone,_ packing away matching shirts and towels, lesser glances at his phone, to finally spending a day without going through the polaroid pictures he kept of him and Sakusa. Atsumu still avoided onigiris though, which would make Osamu inevitably upset especially if he took time to make Atsumu his favorite.

“I feel like there’s one more place I should visit,” Atsumu thought out loud in between munching down dumplings.

“Don’t you even dare, Atsumu,” Suna’s quick to intervene before Osamu can say something.

“Aw, c’mon, how can I know if I’ve completely moved on, then?” Atsumu swallowed thickly, losing his energy to eat at the thought, “Om—Sakusa’s hard to forget y’know. Moving on from him’s like a gamble and I dunno if I’m winnin’ or if I’m just runnin’ in circles here,” he pouted.

Osamu sighed, letting himself loose from Suna’s grip. If there’s one thing Osamu didn’t want Atsumu to revert back to, it’s being broken. He can be an asshole again (and believe Osamu when he says that the Atsumu _now_ is better than Atsumu then) but he can’t just let his brother throw away months of enduring the aching torment of being stood up on the altar on his wedding day only to have him spiral down that same depression again.

“Ya couldn’t even handle visitin’ that apartment ya shared with him without breaking down, what do ya think’ll happen when ya go to the shrine, huh?” Osamu said bitterly. These past eight months were a study of pain for Osamu, but not his—a study of Atsumu’s pain, and how sometimes Osamu could almost feel the same. Even if they weren’t in sync like they were before, Osamu could still feel waves of it resonating from Atsumu. Suna called him a freak, but he’s chalked it up to being twins.

“Oh, are ya suddenly better at feelings now, ‘Samu?” Atsumu retorted, “Wonder what Suna has to say about that?” he turned to Suna, staring at him, expecting a reply.

“Hey, now. Don’t put me in the middle of you two. How about you both calm down, huh?” Suna grabbed Osamu’s arm again, stopping him from moving towards Atsumu. He absolutely hated it when the twins fought, this kind more than others—the emotions pushing them apart, like two foxes getting ready for a neck-to-neck fight.

“I can handle myself perfectly fine, ‘Samu. When’re ya gonna stop babying me, huh?” Atsumu continued when Osamu didn’t say anything, rolling his eyes at his twin being held back by Suna.

“Hah! Good one ‘Tsumu! Like I wasn’t the one who picked ya up when ya were a cryin’ sobbin’ mess huh? Like I wasn’t the one who’s been here fer ya all these months when I coulda focused on better things, huh?” Osamu outright screamed at Atsumu, and Suna just sighed, letting him go. The damage has been done now, anyway.

“Whatever, m’not dealin’ with this right now. M’going,” Atsumu said, not looking at the both of them as he went out the door.

The apologies Osamu wanted to say died down in his throat, and he turned to Suna who only hugged him.

“I shouldn’ta said that,” he mumbled into his neck.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” Suna said, moving them to the chair that can hold them both, “But I think he’ll understand. Not now, but sometime later,” he added.

Atsumu was his twin and Osamu did feel an obligation toward him, but he’s also always chosen to be there for Atsumu for whatever he needed him to be. He knew he also shouldn’t have said what he said because of the implications—that he’s done more than Atsumu knew he did. He knew how perceptive his brother was, and the only way to keep something from him was to make sure Atsumu wasn’t interested in it, and to make sure it never comes up in any conversation.

He’d do anything for Atsumu, including things he’s not fond of and things he knew the blonde would not want him to do. He never meant to throw that in his twin’s face, and he just hoped Suna was right.

* * *

_Everything’s so vivid,_ Atsumu thought to himself as he looked around. The moment he stepped inside the temple, he could immediately smell the roses, tulips, and calla lilies as though 8 months didn’t pass; as though time was frozen inside the shrine. The calming sound of water hitting marble from the fountain just outside the shrine was what made Atsumu choose the place back then, and when he looked directly at the altar he could almost see the shadow of the man he ~~should’ve~~ almost married. A blink later and it all went away—the smell, the sound of the fountain, and Sakusa—and he was just staring up at the shrine altar. It reminded him how alone he was.

Atsumu didn’t feel quite as empty as he thought he would though; maybe because the fight with his brother was fresh in his mind and it reminded him that he still had Osamu, or maybe because he was finally moving on and the thought of anything Sakusa just didn’t quite hurt as much as it used to. As Atsumu moved deeper into the shrine closer to the altar, he tried to picture himself as Sakusa. He started doing this the first time he felt like he didn’t hurt enough, like a masochist. He did it now, imagining himself walking down the aisle with the supposed love of his life waiting for him at the end of it, waiting to seal forever with a kiss. It hit him then, this question he’s always wanted to ask but was always too scared.

 _Do you really see forever in me, Omi-kun?_ he wanted to ask then.

“Did you even see forever in me, Omi-kun?” he asked out loud now, not expecting an answer.

“I did,” a voice he never thought but always hoped he’d hear again answered behind him, and Atsumu whirled his head around.

 _Not fast enough,_ he thought as his vision seemed to slow down, tunneling to the other end of the aisle that he was on. He stared unseeing, waiting for his eyesight to catch up with him as he struggled to make out the speaker’s form, not letting himself hope, thinking this was another one of his fever dreams.

When he could finally see, his vision as clear as the strategies and plays he carried out on the court, Atsumu drank in everything he could. He stared at his feet first, taking in the shoes that were unfamiliar to him; the jogging pants on his legs also unknown but making sense; the shirt that made Atsumu’s throat close up because it was _his;_ he skipped looking at his face to focus on his hair, how it was longer now but not that long as going 8 months without cutting it would look like—he had a haircut recently, Atsumu could tell. After what felt like eternity, he finally looked at the other’s face; he took in the way his mouth slightly curved up in the smile that Atsumu thought he’d never see again, took in the furrowed shape of his eyebrows, took in the 2 moles on his forehead. He met his eyes, finally; Atsumu’s shocked golden ones to Sakusa’s confused, hesitant brown ones.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” Atsumu all but exploded, turning to face the other fully.

“I was passing by on a run and thought I’d visit for a bit,” Sakusa answered him, eyes roving all over the blonde.

“You thought you’d _visit,_ ” Atsumu said, almost spitting the word at him, moving closer as he did, “Just like that, huh? As easy as _that?_ ” he finished, taking hold of Sakusa’s shirt collar and pushing him until he hit the wall behind him.

“‘Tsumu,” Sakusa started, but Atsumu got in his face.

“You don’t get to call me that, not after what you did,” the blonde hissed, and a sharp pain shot through Sakusa’s chest at the ugly way his face contorted in an effort to rein in his emotions.

“Okay, Miya,” Sakusa nodded calmly, not moving in the face of Atsumu’s rage.

“Why are you here?” Atsumu whispered, agonized, squeezing the cloth in his hands, not knowing if it was because he was so livid that he might strangle the other man or because he didn’t want Sakusa to disappear again.

“It’s like I told you,” Sakusa whispered back, gentle, wanting to be the balm to the pain he knew Atsumu was feeling, “I was just running past. I didn’t expect you to be here,” he said.

“That’s it?” Atsumu scoffed, and it was like all his energy, all his anger left him. He let go of Sakusa and took a step back, staring at him with such a look of betrayal that the taller knew that was how he looked all those months ago at the same altar behind them. Normally Sakusa would deny having any other motives, but he also knew he should be the one trying to make up to him now.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” Sakusa started, taking a deep breath before finally deciding that the fragile vows he made to himself were so much less to the enormity of Atsumu raw and open and _hurting_ in front of him, “But I hoped you would. Every day I would hope I’d see you here,” he finished.

“Then why the _fuck_ didn’t you answer any of my texts, huh? Why would you let my calls go? Why didn’t you just _show up?!_ ” Atsumu was back in his face, back to holding his collar, now screaming.

“I’ll explain, but not here,” Sakusa told him, and on this he wouldn’t budge, “Meet me for dinner tomorrow night,” he added, mind now racing for ways to make it up to the other now that what was holding him back was gone.

“What?” Atsumu demanded, confused.

“Not here, but meet me for dinner and I’ll explain,” Sakusa repeated with a little steel in his voice.

“You expect me to just go along with that?” Atsumu asked with a sneer.

“No, but I hope you would,” Sakusa answered simply, taking hold of Atsumu’s hands on his collar and gently removing it, his hands lingering, “There’s a new restaurant just a block away from your brother’s shop, meet me there at 8pm,” he added, staring straight into Atsumu’s eyes to show how serious he was about this.

“And if I don’t?” Atsumu challenged, still unwilling to be caught up in Sakusa again.

“Then you don’t. I’m not going to force you, Atsumu, but you’re the one with the questions,” Sakusa said quietly, turning to go.

Atsumu only stared, his mind too clouded to come up with much in the face of Sakusa’s reappearance after 8 months. He stared, feeling the resolve to move on evaporate the instant the fear showed up—the fear that Sakusa might disappear again and this time, it would be permanent.

* * *

Sakusa’s heart was racing as he ran out of the shrine proper, an eerie flashback going through his mind as he remembered the same way he ran from the aisle 8 months back. Everything in him was screaming not to do it again to Atsumu, but he never expected to see the blonde again, much less in the same place where they were supposed to be married. He assumed ~~hoped~~ that Atsumu either moved on or hated him, but the Atsumu he just saw—the Atsumu who had slammed him against the wall and had gripped him so hard—was no version of Atsumu he’s seen before, and if he allowed himself to be picky, was no version of Atsumu he ever wanted to see again. The Atsumu he just saw was so unhappy, but more than that he had the impression that _that_ Atsumu was barely holding on by a thread, and that thought was what made him run.

After all, he was good at that.

He might have decided to chuck his vow out the window, but he was unprepared to deal with the direct effect of his thoughtless actions on Atsumu. He needed time, and he needed someone to help him clear his mind because right now his thoughts are spiraling, all about the person he just left for god knows how many times now.

“Omi,” Komori greeted him, standing just outside of the shrine building, waiting for him like he usually did with his hands tucked inside his pockets, “Ready to go?” he asked.

For a while Sakusa didn’t speak. They remained standing there, the growing silence rendering Komori uncomfortable. He wanted to _ask,_ wanted to know what happened _this time_ because he was sure Sakusa didn’t look this undone before he entered the shrine. If anything, the taller looked calm, as serene as watching waves of the sea hit the shore. To see such a sight now, as if Sakusa’s been reduced back to the man he was months and months ago, pained Komori beyond words.

“Atsumu,” was all Sakusa said, sensing the discomfort and concern in his cousin, “Atsumu was inside him. I saw him, talked to him,” he added softly, as if he still couldn’t believe it himself.

There was something about the way Sakusa said Atsumu’s name that tangled longing and grief together, and for a moment there Komori could almost _see_ him falling—no, breaking apart. It was crazy how words start gaining weight once enunciated, once it’s out there; how they start off meaningless only to be given interpretation by those who uttered them; in Sakusa’s situation now they were like weapons to his crumbling stability.

Komori could only nod, stunned. _Why now?_ He thought, _Why now when he’s doing just fine without you anymore? Why now when he’s finally started moving on? Why now—_

“Let’s go,” Komori muttered under his breath, his teeth grinding behind his lips. He was angry, not at Atsumu, but at the circumstances. It’s as if Sakusa didn’t deserve to be happy or, if not happy, then at least somewhat peaceful. He was angry at how one seemingly innocuous choice would send—already sent—the two of them back in time, back to how they were again when the first wrong choice was made. He was probably angrier than he should be, he knew, but could he be blamed?

“What if I don’t want to do it anymore?” Sakusa asked quietly, his tone relieved as if he’d been holding on to this line for the longest time and just now voicing it, putting it out for the world to judge.

“Don’t want to do what anymore?” Komori asked, needing to clarify even as he already understood.

 _Pathetic,_ he thought to himself as he replayed the meeting in his mind. 30 seconds in the setter’s presence and Sakusa had already gone back on his convictions. It was frustrating, feeling powerless against that gravity that pulled the both of them towards each other. _Where was this when I was feeling closed in?_ He wondered, feeling bitter.

“To run away,” Sakusa answered, voice small and unsure, “What if I finally want to stay?”

Everything would have been very different without that one moment of doubt that dictated Sakusa’s actions 8 months ago, and he just hoped Atsumu would be understanding when the time came for him to explain.

“You know, Omi, I was never a hindrance to you, not much anyway,” Komori started, holding on to Sakusa’s shoulder because he could actually see him swaying, “I’ve been pushing to go back to him when you didn’t want to, and now that you do? Well, I’m just hoping this whole ‘staying’ thing could help you, then you know I’ll be here,” he said, patting his cousin.

In that moment, Sakusa had all the encouragement he needed. As much as he wanted to win Atsumu back, to feel his love again with no extras—no pain, no doubt, no second-guessing—he couldn’t do that, not yet at least. He settled with this instead.

 _No more running away, then,_ Sakusa thought to himself.

He’d give Atsumu time to get himself together until tonight, and hopefully he wouldn’t lose it too much when Sakusa’ll try to explain himself.

Hopefully, he’d have more than just dinner with Atsumu.

After the longest 8 months of his life, Sakusa finally felt so close to okay just at the thought of seeing Atsumu again.

_[month 8 & day 1]_

Atsumu didn’t want to show up. He wanted to leave Sakusa waiting and _expecting,_ just like the taller did to him all those months ago. He wanted to be petty, knew he could pull it off since it was what he was good at and known for, after all, so _why can’t he do it now?_ He wondered to himself as he walked up to the restaurant, 5 minutes to the time.

He stood outside, eyes scanning through the glass walls for a glimpse of the raven haired wing spiker that’d been haunting his every waking moment ever since he met him.

“I told you I’d show up,” said a muffled voice next to him, and he startled; taking a step away even as he looked at the taller. Precaution was something that never came to him easily, but now it did. It was an odd sensation to him, needing to protect himself when he never even gave it a thought before. It was necessary now though, his walls going up around the one other person who was able to damage him so thoroughly he could still feel the echoes of the blow in his chest even now.

“Could ya blame me if I wanted to make sure?” Atsumu shot back, an automatic frown marring his face.

“No, but it wouldn’t stop me from telling you,” Sakusa replied evenly, moving past him to enter the restaurant.

“What the hell does that mean?!” Atsumu demanded, following him if only to continue his tirade.

“It means I’m going to tell you the same thing until you’re sure,” Sakusa continued in that same even tone, making Atsumu doubt.

8 months was a long time, considering what he’d been through, but it’s not that long that an entire person changes their whole attitude, and especially not someone like Sakusa. He knew the taller as a creature of comfort, and every little change in his routine would be cause for anxiety. He tried reading the lines of Sakusa’s back, but with the overcoat it was harder than usual. He could see the tension in his shoulders though, and the way his head was tilted down suggested he was unsure of what he was doing.

 _Good,_ Atsumu thought then, speeding up, _Nice to know I’m not the only one edgy tonight,_ then he sidled up next to the taller as they approached the hostess.

“Table fer two please, my _fiancé_ over here is treatin’ me to dinner fer the first time. Can ya believe it?” Atsumu said with a suggestive smile at the person who greeted them.

“I’m sorry sir, there are no free tables right now. Do you by chance have a reservation?” was the reply, a tense smile forming on the waitress’ face as she watched Atsumu pull Sakusa closer.

“Yes, under Sakusa Kiyoomi,” Sakusa answered, side-eyeing Atsumu but letting him do what he wanted.

“Oh, you’re right in time then! Follow me please,” the woman said, swiftly turning away and leading them to a secluded table without any other customers surrounding it and a view of all the exits—criteria of Sakusa’s whenever they ate out. _Seems like that didn’t change,_ Atsumu thought to himself.

“Are you sure you want to be doing that?” Sakusa asked, pulling out disinfectant wipes and cleaning his seat and side of the table before finally taking off his coat and mask and sitting down.

“Doin’ what?” Atsumu asked, waiting for the other to sit down before he did too. He told himself it was only force of habit and not because he was still used to being attentive to Sakusa’s comforts.

“Trying to rile me up by going back to the way we were,” Sakusa told him with an unimpressed stare, steepling his hands under his chin—a nervous tick, and what’s more the wing spiker is keeping eye contact far longer than necessary; he wanted Atsumu to stop.

“S’workin’, though,” Atsumu told him confidently.

“Atsumu,” was all Sakusa said, keeping his silence until Atsumu gave in—which he usually would, _before._ He had no reasons to stop now.

“Tell me, _Omi,_ ” here Atsumu’s smile turned sharp, his tone mocking and venomous, “Why are ya tryin’ so hard to look put together when we both know yer a flick away from crumblin’ in that seat?” he asked, eyes sharp as he watched the other close his eyes and take a deep breath.

 _1-0, point to Miya,_ Atsumu thought to himself.

“You have every right to be mad, I know. Can we at least eat dinner first?” Sakusa asked, a pleading note in his voice even if his face remained impassive.

Atsumu only clicked his tongue and averted his face, hooking an arm behind the back of his chair and pulling up a leg so that he wasn’t facing the other head one which was all the agreement Sakusa needed. He waved over a waiter and gave an order for the two of them.

“No onigiris,” Atsumu said sharply, glaring at the both of them. Sakusa only nodded, and amended his order. Atsumu inwardly laughed, shaking his head at how the taller still knew most of his food choices, how he naturally let Sakusa be the one to instruct their waiter about the specifics of his food choices.

“Why no onigiris? Aren’t they your favorite? What happened?” Sakusa asked when they were left alone again.

“You happened,” Atsumu shrugged and leaned another elbow on the table all casual as if that answer didn’t hit Sakusa with a dose of pain, “So tell me, Omi, what have you been up to for the past 8 months?” he asked in that same mocking voice.

“Nothing,” Sakusa answered, his brows scrunching as he looked down at the table.

“Really? Nothing? Wow, that must’ve been a lot of fun for ya to choose it over marrying me,” Atsumu said casually, and there—a flinch, by Sakusa’s standards. In reality it was just a slight crinkling in the corners of his eyes and mouth, a slight frown in his otherwise expressionless face.

 _2-0, Miya in the lead,_ Atsumu kept count.

“Okay, Atsumu,” Sakusa breathed, “Okay. I get it, and I’m not going to insult you by apologizing for what I did. You asked me why, and that’s all I’m going to explain,” he finished in one breath, his façade finally cracking.

“Yer taking all the fun out of this, Omi,” Atsumu complained but straightened up, turning serious, “But okay, I’ll bite. What do you have to say?” he asked, telling himself he was only giving in out of pity and not because he was also hurting seeing Sakusa like this.

It just didn’t make any sense to Atsumu. The man literally left him on their wedding day without any explanation and didn’t show up for 8 months, and even then it was because of pure luck that they met again. Atsumu should be furious, and while he was, seeing Sakusa like this now also made him sympathetic. It was unfair, Atsumu thought, that with just a reappearance Sakusa threw away 8 months of progress.

“I…” Sakusa dragged out, now closing his eyes which made Atsumu curious, “I have no explanations. At least, nothing that I think that wouldn’t make you hate me,” Sakusa said in a small voice, and Atsumu could _feel_ himself softening.

“Just tell me, Sakusa,” Atsumu said with an edge to his voice—a command, and Sakusa straightened up. It was rare for the setter to be so serious that it immediately influenced him as well. Some things never do change, it seemed.

“I have no reason, really,” Sakusa chuckled drily to himself, and now Atsumu was confused, “I just… that moment I was about to go out of my room and line up for the procession, there was this sudden voice in my head that kept pestering me, asking me if I was really sure I want to dedicate the rest of my life to you, asking me if this was what I really wanted, telling me that I had to take a minute to think about it again,” Sakusa rambled, and while Atsumu couldn’t understand—not yet, at least—but he’s getting a grasp of things, ironically courtesy of his earlier assessment of the wing spiker outside of the restaurant.

“And then?” Atsumu prompted, still trying to cling to his snark but he can tell it was fading fast, can tell that the pain is just waiting to resurface.

“And then,” there it was again, the sight of Sakusa unravelling in front of Atsumu—the slight quivering of his lips, the hesitation in his words—each and every tick a contribution to Atsumu’s perception; to his comprehension; each and every tick piecing themselves together to present to Atsumu the fear that Sakusa felt, “I.. ran away,” the taller said, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Because?” Atsumu urged, impatient. He already knew that part, he needed to know the _whys_ of it.

He needed to know the reason if only to distract himself from those four syllables that pierced through Atsumu’s heart, plucking at the areas where he was weak and raw. It made him scared, wondering if he was right all those months ago when he asked Osamu why people always left him, and it pissed him off to no end too—he knew he was already fucked by how much he wanted to fold and just hold the man sitting across him, how much he wanted to find out whether or not he still had the same warmth, the same comfort that he offered Atsumu from before; wanted to find out if he would bring the same joy to Atsumu whenever their skin would touch even ever-so-slightly; how much he wanted to disregard all their fears and doubts and pain for the past eight months and just _go back._

Isn’t it such a cruel thing how all you can do is watch someone you shared your deepest secrets to, someone you let explore all the planes and crevices in your body and found out together that there was so much more than you knew yourself, someone you have stripped your soul bare for—to be reduced to a stranger now? It came with great trepidation, knowing the stranger you once saw a lifetime with could end you by just the barest and smallest of efforts now.

“Because,” Sakusa dragged out, filling in Atsumu’s question, “ _Fuck,_ give me a minute,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands.

Atsumu did, only crossing his arms across his chest as he squinted in Sakusa’s direction, observing how much different he was from the stoic, doesn’t-move-unless-absolutely-necessary Sakusa of before. _This_ Sakusa was giving away too much, falling apart right in front of him and as much as Atsumu wanted to take pleasure in his pain, he couldn’t. At the very most he was comforted that the taller was hurting, but even then it was a shallow kind of comfort.

 _Is this what he’s afraid of then? Coming clean? Getting picked apart and torn into? Is this it?_ Atsumu thought, having never really believed that Sakusa’s only fear was not finishing things through to the end. After all, that wasn’t what he did with Atsumu.

There was a shaky exhale from Sakusa before he spoke up again, and Atsumu brushed off how much _that_ alone affected him. _Just a little longer, Sakusa. I just need answers and then I’ll—_

“Because I loved you too much, Miya,” Sakusa offered, and Atsumu only raised his eyebrow, believing the past tense.

“Are ya saying it’s my fault?” he asked with a disbelieving laugh.

“I’m sayin—goddamnit, Atsumu! I’m saying I got scared. I’m saying I doubted myself and I needed some time to get myself under control. I’m saying I had to _make sure,_ because it was you and I couldn’t marry you if I wasn’t sure. I wouldn’t do that to _you,_ ” Sakusa put out, rambling, now staring at Atsumu as if trying to will the blonde to understand.

“What the hell does that mean, Omi?” Atsumu said, frowning at the distress radiating from Sakusa.

“For fuck’s sake, Atsumu, don’t you get it? Are you really gonna make me say it?!” Sakusa hissed at him, his face crumpling at the still confused look on Atsumu’s face, “Fine, ‘Tsumu, _fine._ I’m saying I love you too much and I got scared because I didn’t want to _not_ marry you but I couldn’t marry you if I wasn’t 100% sure of _my_ love. It’s—that’s what happened, I was scared and confused and I love you too much to hurt you so I had to get away because it got too much,” Sakusa finished, still staring at Atsumu, searching his face for even a sliver of understanding in the setter’s eyes.

“What, it took ya 8 months to get over it?” Atsumu asked, “And did yer _fear_ and _confusion_ also take yer phone that ya couldn’t even answer one of my calls?” he added, bitterness sharpening his tone to a point.

“No, ‘Tsumu, no,” Sakusa’s voice was pleading, his eyes asking for the forgiveness that he can’t let his mouth say, “I figured it out after a month, but by then I fucked everything up. I didn’t know how to go back,” Sakusa offered, and even he could hear the feebleness of that excuse.

“A _fucking_ month? That was all it took ya?” Atsumu was incensed, his feet touching the ground as he turned to face the taller fully, wanting to get in his face, “What didja figure out in that month then? And what _the fuck_ didja do fer the next seven months after that? Where were ya huh, Omi? Ya couldn’t tell me shit? I was left in the dark Omi! I didn’t know what was going on! Do ya have any idea what ya put me through?!” Atsumu screamed at him, and now he was also grateful that Sakusa chose a booth away from people even as he wanted to rip into him.

“By then I thought I did enough damage so I didn’t want to do more… I stayed away. I’d thought you’d eventually move on or hate me so,” Sakusa shrugged then, and Atsumu could see how he was trying so hard to get himself under control after his outburst.

“Really, Omi? _Really?_ Ya thought I’d move on or hate ya? What the fuck gave ya that impression huh? Were my pathetic texts and multiple calls—even when ya didn’t pick up—not enough to let ya know that I wanted ya back?” Atsumu hurled in his face, and Sakusa could only keep quiet; he knew he deserved all of what Atsumu threw at him.

 _3-0. I win, Omi,_ Atsumu thought smugly.

“I have no good explanations, ‘Tsumu. All I can offer you is the truth. That’s what happened, I got scared, and I’m still scared, to be honest, but you deserve this—whatever the hell _this_ is. An explanation?” Sakusa said, meek.

“Eight fucking months after the fact,” Atsumu scoffed, leaning more towards Sakusa, “I don’t want your explanations! I wanted to fucking _marry you,_ ” and here Atsumu’s voice broke, and the pain he’d been holding back flooding him, “Why didn’t you let me marry you, Omi?” he asked in a whisper, trying to contain the hurt that was threatening to spill through his eyes.

Sakusa noted the past tense here too, inwardly flinching at the implication that Atsumu didn’t want to marry him anymore. _Why would he after you left him the first time?_ He reminded himself, trying not to be greedy. It was enough that he got this much, even. _It was enough,_ he repeated in his head.

The sorrowful atmosphere at their table was broken by the arrival of their food which they both ignored, staring at each other—Atsumu angry and wanting to lash out still and Sakusa resolute in his apologetic disposition, both of them still feeling love for the other, both of them not wanting to act on that love for different reasons.

“That’s all you asked from me, so I’m gonna… go now. I lost my appetite,” Sakusa lied—the first time he did so to Atsumu. He stood up and collected his things, hurrying.

“Runnin’ away again, huh?” Atsumu commented, tracking him, sensing the way he was barely holding it together. It was the same thing Atsumu was feeling, after all.

“I’ll keep in touch,” Sakusa promised, avoiding Atsumu’s eyes as he brushed past the blonde.

“What, like ya did the past 8 months?” Atsumu called out, not turning to look.

“Better,” he could hear behind him, and then he listened to Sakusa’s receding steps until the chime at the door indicated the taller has left the building.

That knowledge also left a hollow feeling in Atsumu’s chest, and he wanted to run after the wing spiker. He didn’t though, turning their conversation over and over in his mind. One thing he kept thinking was that it was such a stupid reason, what Sakusa told him. There were thousands of choices he could’ve made that would have been better than the one he chose, that wouldn’t result in them in the situation they were in.

 _He could’ve talked to me,_ Atsumu thought to himself bitterly as he signaled for the waiter, asking to take out the food.

 _He could’ve gone back at any point,_ He continued, wanting to shout these choices to Sakusa.

The thing holding Atsumu back from going after the raven haired man was his anger. If only Sakusa told him, if only Sakusa went back, so many if onlys going through the blonde’s head that worked him up again. He took a morbid satisfaction at the fact that finally, _finally,_ he was able to hurt Sakusa even just a little bit for the devastation he brought Atsumu to the moment he left him at the altar.

He won tonight, but that thought soured at the knowledge that he didn’t _want_ to win, not against Sakusa. He just wanted things to return to what they once were.

 _How can we go back now?_ Atsumu thought to himself as he went home.

_[month 9]_

After that dreadful dinner, Atsumu kept finding himself being dragged back to the same place he swore never to come back to; the same place where he got his heart trampled on.

Sakusa made good on his promise and had texted Atsumu back, _finally,_ a few days after he said he would. At first Atsumu was still all insults and questions and _how could yous_ but as more time passed, he started asking about the taller as well.

Slowly, they built up conversation again, a month later they were texting everyday about anything and everything they could think of, Sakusa making up for his radio silence by being more talkative than he ever was, even if it was over the phone.

One thing that Atsumu was frustrated over was how non-committal the other was being. Conversation was nice but more than that? It was like pulling teeth. Atsumu’s brief stint in moving on was derailed the moment he saw Sakusa again, and all he wanted to have him back in his life but that didn’t seem to be the case for the wing spiker, and it irritated Atsumu to no end because he was almost sure Sakusa still loved him too.

Atsumu just didn’t want to be the person to put himself out there again after what happened between them, wanting Sakusa to be the one to make amends. He was so frustrated over the already wasted time that he found himself at the temple, having already drunk 3 bottles of sake and his 4th in hand, an imitation of first 2 months after he was left at the altar.

He was almost sure that his brother would ramble on about how he has regressed to the doing the same things he used to do to cope with the loss, sure that he’d hear the questions _what’s gotten into you now?_ and _did something happen?_ like he’s heard for the past month. For once, Atsumu didn’t care; this pain and doubt and frustration was _his_ alone, after all—this sharp feeling shooting through his limbs, his lungs tightening at the very thought of Sakusa not with him, his whole body demanding to rest from having been so worn out from staying out all day—this was all his to carry and deal with alone. His twin didn’t have to know he met up with the taller, especially when Atsumu knew he blamed Sakusa for everything.

Atsumu stood on wobbly feet, planning to pacify his brother when he noticed two silhouettes standing just a few meters away. It seemed all too familiar to Atsumu, but his mind was swirling and he couldn’t tell who was who. He walked a little closer, careful as to not be noticed until their voices reached Atsumu’s ears enough to decipher the conversation,

“I knew I’d find you here, Omi,” is what Atsumu heard first. He thought hard, shaking the alcohol out of his system despite knowing it won’t do much. _Omi?_ _Who is this and how can he call Omi that?_ was what Atsumu thought.

“I told you not to look for me,”—Atsumu recognized _his_ voice, how could he forget?—“Komori,” Sakusa said.

Atsumu dropped the bottle in his hand out of utter shock as he walked out of the shadows toward the two men talking, face painted with betrayal and a silent _how could you?_ in his stance. His mind ceased to function as he got closer, every step like a strong magnitude shaking worlds before he came to a halt just an arm’s length away.

Sakusa and Komori’s face contorted with what Atsumu assumed was shock and nervousness, the buzz from the alcohol making it harder to read them. _Too much,_ he thought, _this is too much._ He felt like he couldn’t breathe, air pipes squeezing too much for his liking as he swallowed around the knot of rage in his throat.

“What _the fuck,_ ” Atsumu started, trying to enunciate clearly, “is he doing here?” he asked, eyes watching as the two glanced at each other.

 _Ah, there it was,_ Atsumu thought, _The truth._

“Atsumu, hey—hey, you’re drunk?” Sakusa said, stepping forward to catch the blonde at his shoulder when Atsumu didn’t realize he was swaying.

“ _Don’t_. Don’t touch me,” Atsumu threatened, stumbling away from Sakusa, pointing a finger between the two of them. It hurt Sakusa to hear him say that when he knew Atsumu loved basking in his touch, in the gentleness—as Atsumu decribed it—of his cradle.

“Atsumu, _please,_ ” Sakusa pleaded, and Komori knew there was more to it than just wanting to grab Atsumu because he’s drunk. He’s never heard his cousin say anything in that tone before, and he assumed it was because Atsumu was here having caught Sakusa in another painful situation.

“Komori,” Atsumu said, focusing on him, “I thought ya said ya didn’t know where Sakusa was? I asked ya fer months and you always had the same answer,” he added, more accusing than asking. _I should’ve listened to ‘Samu,_ Atsumu thought to himself, regretting his choice to go to the shrine today.

“Listen, Miya, I can explain. Just,” Komori paused, glancing at Sakusa as if asking for permission, and when the taller didn’t say anything he continued, “Just calm down a bit,” he finished.

“Calm down? Are ya hearing yerself?” Atsumu laughed in his face.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa interrupted. He knew he shouldn’t have put Komori in the middle of the two of them, but he hoped this wouldn’t ever happen. Here they are, though. “Deep breaths, ‘Tsumu. Deep breaths,” he advised, arm hovering over Atsumu’s shoulder just in case the blonde lost balance.

“Explain to me now!” Atsumu demanded, voice breaking and eyes raging. Even with the tears threatening to fall, Sakusa could tell he was trying his hardest to hold it in, “Tell me everything I need to know, _Sakusa,_ because I’m tired of always guessing, of always assuming. Just tell it to me straight.”

“Alright, if you wanna know so bad then I’ll tell you,” Komori’s loud, impatient voice cut in between them, “I lied to you, plain and simple. He was staying at my place the whole time,” he ended, crossing his arms in front of him in a _what are you going to do about it?_ way.

If Sakusa didn’t know Komori very well, he’d think his cousin was very calm handling this whole situation and even aggravating Atsumu. It seemed like Komori still couldn’t lie very well.

“Every time when I’d get a text from you asking if Omi’ been in contact, I was with him,” Komori continued, chin pointing to Sakusa, “I was next to him the whole time and I couldn’t tell you because—”

“I wasn’t ready, Atsumu,” Sakusa spoke up, filling in for Komori. He couldn’t let his cousin face all of Atsumu’s anger alone when all of _this_ was rooted in Sakusa’s wrong decisions, after all, “I asked him to keep me away from you, asked him to tell you he didn’t know where I was because—well, you know this already—and I’m sorry, I never meant for you to know. Don’t blame Komori for this,” Sakusa finished his rambling.

Atsumu froze in his spot, refusing to process everything Sakusa said; still it somehow managed to sink in, driving him crazy. It’s this feeling where Atsumu couldn’t—could no longer tell where it was that hurt. His heart was thrumming in his ribcage and the back of his neck was pulsing along at a pace he didn’t know he could follow; his lungs demanding to restart because the more he knew the more he felt suffocated.

 _Fool. You wanted this, Atsumu,_ he thought to himself.

“Ah, now I get it,” Atsumu said idly as if this was just a casual conversation between strangers, “Ya haven’t said it out loud but I know ya wanted to try again, Sakusa, and now this just makes me think yer yanking my chain. ‘Cause y’know, if ya did, ya wouldnta said that, and ya wouldnta done what ya said too, in the first place. All of this,” Atsumu waved his hand around, indicating the three of them, “just tells me yer a selfish asshole, Sakusa,” Atsumu paused, wanting to collapse into a chair but there was none near.

“Ya felt weak fer a moment, and the next one yer already out the door. Have ya ever even considered me? Have ya ever thought about the times when I was the one feelin’ helpless? When I was the one doubtin’ myself, thinkin’ over and over whether or not I made ya happy? Ever thought about that, huh, Sakusa?” Atsumu finished his tirade, focusing all his anger on the taller like he asked. He knew it was also because of the alcohol, but it was cathartic to let this all out. His jar of emotions was filled to the brim and this was how he released it, thinking he was doing himself a favor.

“I…” Sakusa had no answer. He wanted to tell Atsumu that he _did,_ more than he probably knew, but that was the problem—Atsumu _didn’t_ know how much Sakusa thought of him. The stoic man was so used to never showing emotions deeper than annoyance and disgust that he kept up that same façade around people he wanted to show more too. _How many times have I even said I love him unprompted? Does he even know my collection of our photos?_ Sakusa idly thought to himself, feeling shameful at the revelation that even before he ran away, he was doing Atsumu a major wrong.

“See? Ya don’t even have anythin’ to say,” Atsumu pointed out drily, “I can’t believe I wanted to marry ya,” he added, looking at Sakusa with something almost resembling hate.

 _It’s the alcohol talking, it’s the alcohol talking, it’s the alcohol talking,_ Sakusa chanted in his head, trying to ignore the knife-like sensation tearing through his torso and remain composed. He was trying desperately to remain level-headed, just focusing on the goal to get Atsumu back to his place and off the streets before something happened to him—but something _did_ happen to him; Sakusa happened to him, and the wing spiker just wished Atsumu would go back to his senses soon even if he was unsure what _that_ would bring—he knew once again he was in the wrong. There were no justifying his actions and the damage has been done.

In the midst of the growing silence between the two of them, Komori spoke up.

“If you regret wanting to marry Omi, do you regret being brothers with Osamu too?” he asked, and Sakusa turned to glare at him, shaking his head imperceptibly, but Atsumu still saw.

“What do you mean?” Atsumu asked, this time sure he didn’t want to know.

“I mean, he knew where Sakusa was, too. He helped me hide it from you, when you asked me, remember? About 2 months after the wedding? I was in his shop?” Komori reminded him, and in his state Atsumu couldn’t; all that was left in his mind the need to talk to his twin.

* * *

“‘Samu!” was what Atsumu screamed the moment he entered the apartment.

“Ya better not be drunk, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu warned from somewhere inside, and Suna came running out of a room at all the screaming. When he saw Atsumu, he stuttered to a stop, eyes roaming around to figure out where Osamu was and wanting to warn him.

“‘Samu! We need to talk,” Atsumu continued his screaming, too wired to keep calm.

The walk home was a haze to him, bumping into someone here and there in his rush to confront his brother, his mind racing, trying to think of what he would do when he got there.

“About what?” came Osamu’s annoyed voice, drying his hands as he walked out of the kitchen.

“I just saw Komori today,” Atsumu started, not even trying to hide the hostility in his voice.

“Oh? What’d he say?” Osamu asked, standing next to Suna with a faux innocent tilt to his head, which just incensed Atsumu even more. Until the end, Osamu had lied to him.

“Mind tellin’ me why he said you knew where Sakusa was all this time?” Atsumu asked him, standing so still, waiting for what comes next.

“Why would he tell you that?” Osamu asked, still keeping up the act. Atsumu was slightly drunk, but it didn’t impair his perceptiveness one bit, not when it came to his twin.

“You tell me, ‘Samu,” Atsumu said casually, strolling closer. He could feel the eyes of the two on him, watching, “Do you?” he asked, stopping right in front of Osamu.

“Do I what?” Osamu asked again, and it was enough to ignite Atsumu’s anger to a fever pitch. He reached for the collar of Osamu’s shirt, pulling him closer to scream at his face.

“Stop playing dumb! How couldja do this to me?!” Atsumu screamed, and Suna grabbed on to his arm, trying to dislodge him from Osamu.

“I did it to protect ya, ya idjit!” Osamu screamed back, “Ya’d been drinking yerself to death when I found ya passed out at that fucking temple! I’d knowingly bankrupt the shop first before I’d point ya to that asshole’s direction again!” he added, jabbing his finger into Atsumu’s forehead.

“Ya had no right! Absolutely no fuckin’ right!” Atsumu replied, shaking his twin.

“No right? _No right?_ Fuck you, Atsumu!” Osamu screamed back at him, properly pissed off now, “ _I_ was the only fucking one there to see ya break down. _I_ was the only one to see ya beating yerself up! _I_ was the only fucking one there to help ya get back to yer feet, and fuck me but _I_ wouldn’t let that bastard ruin all the progress ya’ve made!” he went on, finally succeeding in throwing off Atsumu of him.

“That’s not yer decision to make!” Atsumu scoffed at him, shaking at how much anger he didn’t know he could still feel, “and guess fuckin’ what? I found him even without yer help!” he added, smug.

“What?” Osamu paused there, this chilling stillness coming over him that even Atsumu took notice off—Osamu was close to losing it completely.

“I said I found Omi again,” the blonde answered, defiant, “A month ago,” he added.

“And yer fucking _proud?_ ‘Tsumu, ya started drinking again a month ago! Don’t you fucking see? He’s no good fer ya!” Osamu voice was explosive now, gesturing with his hand at the door, presumably indicating Sakusa, “Why d’you do this to yerself, huh? Do you really wanna put yerself through all that shit again?” he added.

“That’s not yer decision to fucking make! I’m sick an’ tired of all of y’all tryin’ to decide what’s best and what’s not fer me. Yer all a buncha liars,” Atsumu spit out, shaking his head at his twin, all the anger going out of him and leaving only hurt and disappointment behind.

“Only because ya clearly can’t make the right decisions fer yerself! You’d throw away everythin’ just for that asshole. I thought you’d finally move on but I guess nothing’s changed, huh?” Osamu said, eyes also sharp in reading the blonde.

“Fuck ya, ‘Samu,” was all Atsumu could say, looking around the apartment for places he could escape to.

“Whatever, ‘Tsumu. Ya clearly don’t need my help anymore, so just go fuck off with that Sakusa of yers. See if I care,” Osamu threw at him, then walked out of their apartment, slamming the door on his way out.

Atsumu spied the balcony and went for them in the resulting silence, but Suna’s voice stopped him.

“You could’ve gone easy on him. He was just looking out for you,” he said, quietly.

“I don’t appreciate it when important shit is kept from me, especially not _this._ Christ, this year is just one whole train wreck,” Atsumu replied, shaking his head again at that last part.

“Still, he’s done a lot for you in the last 9 monoths,” Suna pointed out, and Atsumu went out, not wanting to hear a reasonable voice right now.

When Osamu saw he still loved Sakusa, it was like all the fight seeped out of him. His twin was right, of course, but Atsumu thought he was hiding it better than he did. When Osamu pointed it out, he felt this fierce longing for Sakusa, and if only to prove Osamu wrong when he’d said the taller was bad for Atsumu, he fished out the phone in his pocket, dialing a number from memory.

“Hello? Atsumu?” came the familiar voice.

“‘Samu and I had a fight,” Atsumu breathed out into the phone, burying his head in his hands as he leaned on the rail.

_[month 12]_

_It’s been a year,_ Sakusa thought, waiting nervously for Atsumu to show up.

For the past 3 months he got closer to Atsumu again, slowly fixing up all the things he’s found he was lacking. In a way, he was grateful for the twins having a fight because it pushed Atsumu toward him. He still had a lot of work to put in, especially for Osamu to trust him again, but he was willing to do it now.

“Hey, ya didn’t hafta wait outside fer me, ya coulda gone in,” was what Atsumu greeted him with, shaking off the snow from his hair.

“And sit in awkward silence with your brother? No thanks,” Sakusa replied, reaching out to shake some of the snow the blonde missed.

“I told ya, he’s cool,” Atsumu said laughingly, moving to go into the apartment.

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you before I went in,” Sakusa blurted out, making Atsumu pause and turn back to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yer making me nervous with that tone, Omi,” Atsumu said with a dry grin.

“Sorry, but it’s good I promise,” Sakusa reassured, inwardly cursing himself for impromptu thoughts. He couldn’t worry about it much though, since Atsumu was waiting for him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, praying to Atsumu’s gods for the first time as he prepared himself to ask.

“I know this might be… sudden? Too quick? For everyone else, but I feel like we’re both finally okay enough for it,” Sakusa started.

“What are you saying?” Atsumu interrupted, straightening up as he turned to face the taller fully.

“I’m saying I’m ready, finally. I’m sorry for making you wait, but would you let me back in your heart again, ‘Tsumu?” Sakusa asks earnestly, his face so open that Atsumu didn’t even put in the effort to try to read it—he just could.

Atsumu opened his mouth to answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Like the tags say, it's an open ending, and we'd love to here your interpretations of it! Come scream at us on [twitter](https://twitter.com/yadoiAnghel), and thank you so much for reading! Next part of the series will be tomorrow!


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